The Husband came home from the gym today to living room filled with everything from the Boy's room. "What is . . . Okay." He said.
My kids love to take EVERYTHING out of their rooms and reorganize. It is like our very own mini-episode of Hoarders. It actually works too, especially with my Boy. He has no problem tossing things out. The Girl, on the other hand, hangs onto each scrap like grim death.
Our kids have tiny rooms. They will get to their dorm rooms one day and say, "This room is huge!" We like to think providing them with small rooms is our perpetration for their future. We are thoughtful like that.
Long, long, LONG story short, the room is gloriously clean. We moved his furniture again. The Husband sighed loudly when I asked him to help move the bed again. Everytime we move the bed he says, "This is the last time." If only.
In the center of his neatly made bed is the saddest looking stuffed cat you've ever seen. It's Douglas, the Boy's beloved stuffed cat. We found him buried behind his bed. The Boy is 10 and so tried to be cool as he hugged the kitten to himself. "It's Douglas!"
"Maybe I should wash him." I said, considering the squashed cat thoughtfully.
"No, he always looks like that."
It is good to see the two friends reunited, even if one of them has grown to be a lanky, cool, kid since they were last together. Regardless of where the bed is later tonight he'll be curled up under his Mickey Mouse blanket with a small stuffed kitten tucked under his arm. I take comfort in that.